Chapter 7
Luna provided him the cover he needed to get away. He scooped up the Sorting Hat as he passed it, limp, sooty and singed in the Entrance Hall, and walked without purpose to the Head’s Office.
“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?... Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you’re sure…”
“The Sorting Hat told me I’d - I’d have done well in Slytherin… It only put me in Gryffindor because I asked not to go in Slytherin.”
“It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the Hat.”
Harry pulled on the tattered Hat without making the conscious decision to do so.
“I wondered when you would be back,” it told him hoarsely.
“You put me in Gryffindor,” Harry told it. “And I pulled the sword out. So Gryffindor is where I belong.”
“Yes,” the Hat acknowledged. “You have proven your place.”
“The part of me that you could see that was Tom Riddle… it’s gone?”
“Your soul is your own. But you would have done well in Slytherin.”
Harry ground his teeth. “But it was Tom Riddle’s soul that would have put me there. Not my own.”
“You are mistaken. You yet have much to learn about yourself, even while you have learned more about life and love than many Wizards thrice your age.”
“I am not Harry Potter.”
The Hat didn’t respond.
“Do you know who I am?”
“I see pieces of the Potters within you. I also see pieces of the Blacks. Given that you were brought up by both… who you were born is unclear. Who you are remains up to you.”
Harry yanked the Hat off, frustrated.